Forever Endeavour
by TimelessCynic
Summary: Voldemort is back... and Hermione Granger is fighting by his side. What can the wizarding world do when the most powerful wizard, and the smartest witch of the age work together to exterminate them? DM/HG
1. Returning

**Title: **Forever Endeavour

**Summary: **It has been ten years since Hermione Granger left her old life behind. She couldn't bear to stay where so many had suffered and perished, so she escaped, and hoped to never return. However, an old evil has returned, and Hermione has returned with it. Meet Hermione Granger, head Death Eater, right hand of Lord Voldemort.

**Rating:** Rated **M** for blood, violence, strong language, and possible graphic sexual scenes.

**Disclaimer: **Obviously I do not own HP. *rolls eyes* HP is the result of JKR's mental prowess

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**(A/N): **This is an AU fic. I **know **Hermione would NEVER willing serve the Dark Lord, so don't review flaming me for the storyline!  
This is my first Dramione fic, so if you love it, hate it, WHATEVER, please please PLEASE review :) I love constructive criticism and would do whatever makes you guys happy.

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**Chapter 1:** Returning

A woman stood alone on the peak of a mountain in the midst of a myriad of snow. It was night, and the darkness threw her pale skin into stark relief. Her wide, chocolate eyes, once bright and eager with the vitality of youth, were now flat, cold..._deadly_. Her mouth was plump and perfectly shaped and the rest of her face had lost all semblance of her childhood. Now, her regal cheekbones lent her an aristocratic countenance, and the shape of her face was that of a classic beauty. She was stunning and she knew it.

Shadows danced and teased at the corners of her vision. They would have made any sane person terrified. She allowed herself a wry smile. They had once terrified her. But no longer. She could deal with it on her own, but even in the slim possibility that she couldn't…no one would be able to rescue her anyway. Her mountain was unplottable…_she_ was unplottable…she made sure of that. She made sure that no one would be able to find her after she left.

The woman's robes billowed around her, and added to her already dramatic appearance. The wind tore at her clothes, plucked at her hair, and battered itself against her face. She smiled and closed her eyes. This was home. _Her_ home. She had grown accustomed to the constant frigidity of the winter…and she loved it…as much as she could love anything, anyway. She balanced herself precariously on the edge of a protruding piece of granite, and laughed ,a mirthless sound, harsh and grating, a twisted likeness of the happiness she harbored a mere ten years ago. In her heart, it was like a lifetime ago, but in her mind, the horrific memories plagued her dreams and haunted her very existence.

Yes. Happiness fled when the Great War started. After the war ended, everything there was to live for…was destroyed.

The wind lifted her golden brown tresses into the air, and she angled her face upward to feel more of it against her flesh. The gusting winds threatened to pitch her into the yawning cavern of darkness before her, but she recklessly stepped forward, nearer to the edge of the precipice, the thrill making her lose her mind. She preferred it this way, she was powerful and free. The brunette smiled to herself. She really did prefer her own company.

The woman suddenly sighed. Somehow, they had found her…and they had made her a deal she couldn't refuse. She never wished to return, but now, there was no choice.

Hermione Granger was back.

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**(A/N):** So how'd I do? I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.  
I know this was a short chapter, but the next update will be longer! Promise :)  
Remember, if you have something to say, suggestions about the plot, suggestions of the continuation of the story, ANYTHING.  
**REVIEW**

If you're reading this, I think I might be in love with you.

Cheers!  
Valkyria


	2. Consumed

I'm glad people actually like this storyline! A HUGE thank you to Midnight776 and btvs22 for being my first reviews EVER!  
I hope y'all keep reading and keep reviewing!

Let the chapter commence!  
Valkyria

**Chapter 2: Consumed**

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At precisely midnight, Hermione melted out of the shadows, and strode confidently toward the wrought iron gates of Malfoy Manor, her steps echoing quietly onto the cobblestone walkway. Stopping in front of the gate, she noted its sad condition. Rust coated every surface of it, and there were gaping holes where some unidentifiable animal had decided to have a snack. _Ha. _She thought with derision. _Malfoys never change._ Who else would bother having such an expensive walkway, and such an ancient door?

However, judging by the door's age, it had more purpose than to keep out intruders. In its dilapidated state, it wouldn't have done a good job of that anyway_. _As the cogs in Hermione's brain worked furiously, she drew her wand and tried every destructive curse she knew, but with no result. The only evidence that someone had tried to break in were the faint scorch marks on the iron surface.

Hermione sighed. She really didn't feel like doing advanced magic tonight. Deciding better to be safe than sorry, she stowed her wand in a fold of her robes and called upon the dark magic she held within. _Fight darkness with darkness, _she thought with a wry smile. Tendrils of raw power gathered in her open palms—twin masses of swirling black tinged with a sickly green, crackling with energy. Letting the spheres expand to the size of grapefruit, she hurled it at the gate, smirking in satisfaction as they completely demolished the door.

Stepping cautiously toward the smouldering remains of the gate, Hermione wasn't at all surprised when a wave of pure energy surged toward her. She was prepared, though, and the light rebounded harmlessly off the shield she had cast around herself. Shaking her head at the questionable hospitality of the Malfoys, she stepped gingerly through the still burning remains.

Contemplating her method of entrance into the manor, she opted for extravagant. Everyone knew the Dark Lord valued power and bravery. Hermione Granger had both, and she would show him just that.

Closing her eyes, and letting her mind wander, she checked the parameter of the grounds for any magical shields. As was to be expected, there were countless shield charms, ranging from old magic to small pieces of warding, apparition charms designed only to let the Malfoys through, heating charms on certain parts of the grounds, and at the last, Hermione gave an audible snort of surprise. _An erection-sustaining charm at the poolside? _She stifled her laughter. Only Draco would do things like that, she shook her head, exasperated.

After her brief scan of the grounds, she proceeded to strip the Manor of all its spells and charms, leaving only the concealing charms and muggle wards intact. Smiling evilly, she stood, preparing herself for the taxing day that she was sure to be forced to endure. Twirling on one foot, she simply let herself fly apart. _Literally._ Hermione became little particles that floated through the air to the sitting room of the Malfoy Manor. It was her take on apparating, and a useful bit of magic that let her eavesdrop whenever she pleased.

She floated in just in time to hear Bellatrix's simpering, high voice. "My Lord. Where is that mudblood? She _promised _she'd be here. Please my Lord, let me punish her. I implore you!"

Hermione could just imagine the manic woman's wide, beseeching eyes, wild, raven black hair…just all in all, clearly not in her right mind. Sighing, she knew she had to defend her honor. That was the one piece of Gryffindor she had yet to abandon: her pride.

Before she materialized, she glanced about the room and took in its occupants. Lucius Malfoy stood proud and erect at the right hand of the Dark Lord, surveying Bellatrix's outburst with a slight curl of his lip. Narcissa stood by with a similar expression on her face. Draco was impassive, and stood at the left hand of Voldemort, she noted. Gone was the emotional panicky boy she had remembered years ago. He must have done several praise-worthy things to have the honor to stand by the Dark Lord's side. Being in service to the Voldemort for so long had lent him a hard appearance, one that Hermione grudgingly found herself slightly attracted to.

Shifting her attention from Draco to Severus, she saw that the years had not been kind to him. Worry lines had etched themselves into his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. His hair was receding, though he tried in vain to sweep his hair to the side. The overall effect was slightly comical, though Hermione couldn't bring herself to _ever_ laugh at her potions master.

Rookwood, Dolohov, Yaxley, and several others she couldn't name also stood stiffly by, their anticipation apparent.

Mentally murdering the dark-haired woman for robbing her of her dramatic entrance, Hermione positioned herself directly behind Bellatrix, and simply allowed the particles of her body fuse together. In a motion too quickly for human eyes to follow, she whipped out an ancient dagger, and pressed it against Bellatrix's throat.

Her maneuver elicited gasps from even the most jaded of Death Eaters. Hermione was pleased to note that even Severus Snape looked a bit paler than usual. However, her face remained a cold, indifferent mask as she leaned down toward Bellatrix. One should never show emotion in a room full of trained killers.

"The mudblood is here…_Bella."_ She hissed in her ear, before forcibly shoving the raven-haired woman out of her way.

Walking with confidence toward the Dark Lord, Hermione didn't sink to her knees like she had seen the others do. She just wasn't the subservient type. She simply held the dagger point down, and leveled it directly in front of her heart.

Voldemort sat on a high backed chair that could only be described as a throne. Instead of radiance and jewels that would encrust the throne of a king, Voldemort's seat was littered with skulls, decaying and rotting, the mouths through which Nagini slithered ominously around her master's shoulders.

_Well, _she thought. _The Dark Lord certainly looks pleased. _

And he was. Voldemort spoke, his voice hissing and cruel, "What is that dagger you hold, mudblood?"

Hermione felt rage boil in her blood. She retorted, "I am no more mudblood than you are. While I was…away, I traced my roots back to the Zabini line. I was a child of Reyna and Augustus Zabini, brother of Blaise Zabini's mother. My biological were killed in a freak accident, and I was sent to live with the Grangers. " She paused. "With all due respect, my Lord, Blaise seems to be a pureblood, and a prominent one at that."

After her outburst, the room was deathly silent. Fearing she may have overstepped her boundaries, Hermione waited for the Dark Lord's response. Instead of the cold anger she had expected, she received a humorless laugh.

She couldn't believe it. The all-powerful, frightening, Lord Voldemort could _laugh_? The very idea made her want to retch, yet here she was, listening to his "peals" of laughter, cringing ever so often as the sound became too much of a burden on her screaming ears. _Merlin, even when he laughs he causes pain. _

Mercifully, after a full minute of mirth, Voldemort stopped, and in an instant, became the deathly serious murderer she was accustomed to.

"Where is the proof, Miss Granger?" He hissed, flashing red eyes appraising her. His use of her false surname aggravated Hermione.

She felt her cheeks flush with anger, but nevertheless, waved her hand, and tendrils of gold began to write themselves in the air, forming themselves into a very distinguishable family pedigree.

As the other Death Eaters whispered among themselves at her display of powerful wandless magic, Voldemort perused her creation with vigour. Seemingly satisfied by her honesty, he sat back, "you never answered my question. What is that dagger you hold? I have never seen it before, and it seems to be of great power."

Hermione stiffened. If he meant to take it from her, the Dark Lord would have to kill her first. She tilted her chin upward, and said, "It is a kasik, my Lord."

"And that is?" Voldemort was intrigued now.

"An ancient dagger from Bali." She replied, nonchalantly.

"And what does it do?" the Dark Lord was leaning forward on his throne now.

"Well, my Lord…you use the pointy end to stick people." Hermione smiled. "It really doesn't do much else."

Disappointed, Voldemort reminded Hermione much of a child denied a toy. Offering a wry smile in consolation, she offered it to him, hilt first, as was expected. He took it with a small amount of trepidation, turning it over and over in his hands, marveling at its artistic qualities, and flawless stones set in its hilt.

In a test to prove her worth, the Dark Lord suddenly whipped the dagger at Hermione, who stood unflinchingly as she neatly pivoted and caught the dagger in midair.

Nodding his approval at Hermione's physical prowess, he moved on to test her magical capabilities.

"We need to determine your rank, Hermione." He drew her name out in a sibilant hiss. "Defeat my loyal servants. And when you lose, that will be your rank."

Hermione was impatient. She had come too far. "You mean for me to defeat them _one by one_, my lord?" She was aghast. "That would take too much time! I will take them all on. _Together."_

She relished in the semi-surprised look she garnered from the customary stoic expression of Voldemort. He simply nodded, eager to see her work.

At the mere mention of bloodshed, the Death Eaters seemed to wake from their original peaceful state. They formed a tight circle around her, wands poised at the ready, ready to strike her down.

Hermione saw, with a small amount of amusement that Narcissa seemed more worried about her furniture than anything else, quickly vanishing them with a wave of her wand, and stepping back behind the Dark Lord.

Unfazed, Hermione stood in the midst of her aggressors, not even bothering to draw her wand. As if in a coordinated attack, at least ten jets of green light shot towards her. She snorted, _how predictable._ She felt herself dissipate, the curses flying past the space that she had first occupied.

Pulling her body together, she made a series of complex hand motions and smiled. The Death Eaters, all unnerved by her smile, stepped more cautiously than before.

"I don't like the way you're looking at me, Yaxley. Don't think I've forgotten the time you tried to rape me." Hermione gave him a feral smile, and a second later, Yaxley collapsed on the floor, hands clutching his head, eyes wide with fright. His screams echoed surprisingly loudly in the plush setting of the sitting room. Hermione cast a silencing charm on Yaxley's writhing body, and looked up to the menacing circle of Death Eaters that swarmed her.

"Bellatrix, I didn't much care for the way you were speaking about me earlier." She gave a lazy flick of her hand, and Bellatrix was thrown across the room, where ropes seemed to gain life, and tied themselves around her limbs, forcing her to dance in a grotesque fashion.

"And as for the rest of you, I just don't care much for you in general." A shockwave of black energy radiated from Hermione's core, and threw all the remaining Death Eaters into the walls behind them. Upon hearing several cracking sounds, did she allow herself small congratulations on her victory.

The Dark Lord was smirking, a grotesque expression on a grotesque face. "Well, Hermione…well done. None can survive one of my servants on the battlefield…and here you are. Wandless, with all of my most trusted followers at your feet." He stepped closer, and ran an icy finger down her cheek, and Hermione suppressed a shiver of disgust. "You've earned your rightful place as my top Death Eater.

"How surprised Potter will be when he sees the brains of his trio fighting by my side!" Hermione flinched as Voldemort fairly crowed that last statement. "Although," the wizard said, "could you make Bella stop dancing? I have seen more of that than I ever wish to in this lifetime."

As soon as he had finished speaking, Bellatrix had stopped her jerky movements, and fell to the ground in a tangled heap. Suddenly remembering Yaxley as well, Hermione grudgingly removed the curse from him as well, snarling in triumph when Yaxley rolled over, unconscious.

Suddenly nervous, Hermione ventured to ask, "And am I to receive the Dark Mark?"

Almost serene, the Dark Lord commanded, "Hold out your arm. Why wait? Tonight, you have risen above all others. Tonight, you are one of the most powerful people in this world."

All nervousness forgotten, Hermione offered her forearm to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand into her skin, and whispered, "Morsmordre." A faint greenish light emitted from the tip, and it felt as if searing knives were cutting into her skin.

She made no sound. To scream was to show weakness. Hermione embraced the pain like one would embrace a lover. She would never turn it away.

_It hurt so good._

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**(A/N): **See? I promised a longer update :D  
please REVIEW and tell me if you liked it or not!

Keep reading :)  
Valkyria


	3. Mind Demons

**Chapter 3: Mind Demons**

Hermione stood, hiding in the shadows. It was one of the most dangerous positions she had ever been in. The Dark Lord had requested her to enslave a demon race…the most deadly of demons in fact. They were known as _alagai, _and these demons were shapeshifters. Although they were nigh invincible in the night, the sunlight reduced them to nothing but ashes.

It was a little known fact, but demons in general, came from a place called the Core…much like the Hell people on earth envision. The Core housed the Hive, where demons were created every day, out of the flesh of their parents. The Hive was immense—billions upon billions of demons born every night, trained, and sent to terrorize the human race.

Hermione never rushed headlong into things. She was quiet and methodological. It was obvious to her that if she were to rush in and start attacking the _alagai_, she would surely be killed, powerful witch or no. So she settled for observing them and their princes.

It was the night before new moon, during the darkest hours of when even that bare sliver had set. In a small patch of true darkness, beneath the thick boughs of a cluster of trees, an evil essence seeped up from the Core.

The dark mist coalesced slowly into a pair of giant demons, their rough brown skin knobbed and gnarled like tree bark. Standing nine feet at the shoulder, their hooked claws dug at the frozen scrub and pine of the forest floor as they sniffed at the air. A low rumble sounded in their throats as black eyes scanned their surroundings. Hermione's dark eyes raked over their rippling muscles, their formidable build, the searching, wary eyes. Yes. This was an intelligent species. She slunk deeper into the shadows, hoping that they wouldn't see her.

Satisfied, they moved apart and squatted on their haunches, coiled and ready to spring. Behind them, the patch of true darkness deepened, corruption blackening the forest bed as another pair of ethereal shapes materialized.

These were slender, barely five feet tall, with soft charcoal flesh, quite unlike the gnarled armor of their larger brethren. On the ends of delicate fingers and toes, their claws seemed fragile—thin and straight like a woman's manicured nail. Their sharp teeth were short, only a single row set in a snoutless mouth.

Their heads were bloated, with huge lidless eyes and high, conical craniums. The flesh over their skulls was knobbed and textured, pulsing around the vestigial nubs of horns. For long moments, the two newcomers stared at each other, foreheads throbbing, as a vibration passed in the air between them.

One of the larger demons caught movement in the brush and reached out with frightening quickness to snatch a rat from its cover. Hermione stifled a strangled gasp. That claw was two feet from her leg! The coreling brought the rodent up close, studying it curiously. As it did, the demon's snout became ratlike, nose and nose and whiskers twitching as it grew a pair of long incisors. The coreling's tongue darted out to test their sharpness.

One of the slender demons turned to regard it, forehead pulsing. With a flick of is claw, the mimic demon eviscerated the rat. At the command of the coreling princes, the mimics changed shape, becoming enormous wind demons. The mind demons hissed as they left the patch of true darkness and starlight struck them. Their breath fogged with the cold, but they gave no sign of discomfort, leaving clawed footprints in the snow. The mimics bent low, and the coreling princes walked up their wings to take perch on their backs as they leapt into the sky.

Quietly turning on the spot, Hermione flew apart again, apparating back to the Dark Lord.

After giving her customary bow, she launched into the details, watching as Voldemort hung on to her every word, occasionally interrupting to ask for clarification. By the time she finished, his eyes were gleaming with barely suppressed malevolence. He spoke, "So you think you have a way?"

She nodded confidently. Hermione always had a plan. "Of course, My Lord. I will require your assistance, though."

He leaned forward, bony hands tucked under his chin. "Oh? How so?"

She took a deep breath and gestured dismissively at the book she held. "I found these wards in an old village I visited recently. I have only just deciphered the runes, and they are supposedly effective against _alagai. _These runes need to be cut into the flesh to make it work, and I can personally see to the ones on my body. However, I will humbly ask for you assistance on those for my right arm, neck, ears, and face."

Voldemort acquiesced almost immediately. Hermione offered a smile, she already had him wrapped around her little finger. _Men. _The thing with the wards was, though, that once they were on, they could never be removed, magically, or otherwise. And the other…one degree off course, and the ward would be rendered impotent.

Then aloud, she said, "and as you may expect, my Lord, I will need at least thirty of your most trusted Death Eaters to come with me." Hermione paused for the effect. "Of course, I will train them accordingly, before they do battle." Voldemort regarded her with his enigmatic eyes, fiery red, mixed with the coolness of his stare.

She shuddered, even though she wasn't afraid of the man—could he even be classified as a man?—that look was enough to send chills down even the most seasoned warrior's spine.

Hermione stayed with the Dark Lord the rest of the night discussing plans of attack, and who was to go on the mission. To Hermione's waiting expectations, the Malfoys, the Lestranges, Rookwood, Yaxley, and a number of other formidable duelists made up part of her makeshift "army".

Finally, she sat back, eagerly looking at the elegant bound book before her. Emerald crushed velvet adorned the covers and the tassel. The edges were gold plated, and wickedly sharp. Hermione smiled to herself, this would be one of the possessions she would guard with her life. Protection wards were very difficult to come by, and with the addition of Voldemort's list of most trusted, that made the tome valuable indeed.

All laughable paranoia aside, The Dark Lord's magic really was commendable. She turned to her master, "Kindly inform the Death Eaters involved with this mission. Training starts tomorrow."

Come morning, Hermione's whole body had been covered with tattoos—swirling patterns down every inch of her skin. The Dark Lord had personally seen to the ones on her face, surprising her with his utmost concentration and gentle wand movements, even though after she finished, the pain was almost unbearable.

She stood before her floor to ceiling mirror, wrapping a thick cloth around her head. Hermione wished to avoid any unwanted questions about her sudden change of decoration.

She wore robes of the deepest black, and blended in well with the dark surroundings. It was a miserable day, hailstones the sizes of golf balls were hurtling out of the sky, pelting against her head. She welcomed the pain, the stings of the tattoos on her body, the pounding headache behind her eyes, and the black void of her heart.

Hermione opted to arrive the muggle way. She strode into the town square, stopped and stared stony-faced at the crowd of Death Eaters in front of her. She spoke with the confidence she had developed over the years, with the power of a woman who knew the extent of her abilities, and knew that no one alive could breach them.

"Brothers…sisters." She ignored their looks of disgust. _Some grudges just won't go away._ Hermione plowed on. "Your Lord has put me in charge of your training to fight _alagai._" She waited for a reaction, and was not disappointed.

A chorus of disgruntled protests met her ears. However, one stood out from the rest. Spoken in a dark, rich tone of voice, it sent pleasurable shivers down her spine. What? Pleasurable shivers? Hermione didn't _do_ pleasurable _anything._

Hermione's flat, brown eyes sought out the speaker. She smirked. Draco Malfoy.

His hair was longer than she had remembered it, his soft platinum locks falling neatly into place by the sides of his face. His eyes were the same shade of clear silver as his father's, and his straight, aristocratic nose was as prominent as ever. His full lips were pouted in indignation, and Hermione couldn't resist telling him off.

"Draco. I do not think your lord is one for petty jests and chuckles. You will certainly be battling alagai, and I will attempt to teach you." She glared at him coldly. "You will treat your master with the respect he deserves."

"Filthy mudblood bitch. I wasn't insulting the Dark Lord. I was questioning _you_." Draco's sneer brought Hermione's smirk to shame.

Lucius rapped his cane against the floor, and hissed, "Draco, behave. She may be filthy, but Merlin knows she has a brain."

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Hermione conjured a warded circle big enough to fit all the Death Eaters. "I'll show you how to fight like a real warrior. You will fight alagai _without your wands_."

Her statement was met with a mixture of wide-eyed fear, and proclamations of never facing a "beast" in battle without a wand.

Interrupting their tirade, Hermione said, "the only reason you will _not_ be using your wands in this, is because alagai are completely impervious to your spells. They are an intelligent species, and should be treated as such.

"Well then," Lucius smirked at her, "there is nothing we can do," he said, nodding and pointing with his wand, "but I reckon we're not the ones you need to contend with, girl. Death take you, you filthy mudblood!"

Hermione followed the length of Lucius's wand and saw he was right. Mist was rising throughout the square, and already some corelings were solidifying. The men on the ground shrieked, and scrambled back behind the wards.

Lucius and the rest of the Death Eaters had grim smiles on their faces, smiles of righteous satisfaction, but Hermione didn't flinch. Instead she pulled off her hood and met the man's eyes.

"I've contended with worse, old man," she growled, stripping off her robe. The Death Eaters gasped at the sight of her tattooed flesh, but Lucius simply flushed with murderous anger.

As always, the first to come were the flame demons. One leapt at her, but Hermione caught its tail, hurling it across the square. Another pounced at her, but the wards on her skin flared to life, and its claws could find no purchase. She caught the coreling's jaws before it could bite, so it spat fire in her eyes.

The wards on her face glowed briefly, absorbing the attack and turning it into nothing more than a cool breeze. All the while the wards on her palms glowed more and more fiercely until she crushed the demon's snout, hurling it aside.

There was a shriek from above, and Hermione pivoted in time to grab the diving wind demon and to turn its momentum against it, throwing it hard to the ground and crushing its throat with a stomp of her foot and a thunderclap of magic.

Two more wood demons came at her, and she kicked the first in the stomach, knocking it back with a blast of magic before grappling with the other. He caught one of its arms in a _sharusahk_ hold and pulled with all his strength, tearing the demon's arm clear off. This he threw in the general direction of her spectators, though the limb bounced off the wards of the warded circle.

Three flame demons set upon the crippled wood demon, and soon the wounded coreling was shrieking as it was consumed in flame. The other wood demon recovered and made to come at Hermione, but she snarled at it, and it kept its distance.

Turning her back on the demons, she faced her men, her face dirty and determined. "This is _alagai_ fighting. Are you ready?"

Her statement was met with silence, but one by one, the Death Eaters silently raised their wands and shot the Death Eater symbol into the sky—Lucius, with some measure of distaste, and Draco, with a mysterious half-smile on his face.

Hermione's answering smile was terrifying.

Now, she was truly a Death Eater.


	4. Cold

Hermione stood in the midst of activity in the heart of an Albanian forest. Secrecy was ideal, and the Dark Lord had so kindly offered this little hideaway to build his army. Here, the constant rustling of the animals masked the shouts and grunts of exertion.

She had them working in pairs, spread out through the plain she had transfigured. It was a seemingly natural plain, covered with a thin layer of sand. The sand made it harder to move, and difficult to make sudden stops, but in the end, Hermione decided to have the less experienced spar on the flat ground instead of an uneven ground littered with roots, shrubbery and loose stones. In her mind, tripping while fighting _alagai_ would be the last mistake you ever made. One swipe with those wickedly sharp talons, and you were dead. No ifs, ands, or buts. It was the way death worked.

Thinking back to her impressive display of hand to hand combat with demons, Hermione had immense pride in the fact that she had won the complete support of the Death Eaters. There had been little to no questions…and when one of them stepped out of line, they were dealt with accordingly. Lucius, in particular, needed some..._encouragement_ in getting his head out of his arse. Now, he had the scars and bruises that ensured his compliance with her methods of teaching.

"_You will find a partner, and show me, in pairs, what you can do physically." Hermione cast a stern look out at group of 30 odd Death Eaters in front of her, "and no wands, magic, nonverbal or verbal, poison, ritual stones, weapons, or any other objects other than your limbs and appendages". A normal person…a sane person would have been trembling with fright, but she was Hermione Zabini and she dared to stand in front of Voldemort's elite Death Eaters and instruct them as the Dark Lord would._

_Obviously angered by her blatant show of authority, Lucius attempted to intimidate her. "You dare tell us what to do?" Anger simmered in every frigid word. "You are nothing compared to the dark lord. Nothing. Don't even presume you can be even half the leader the Dark Lord is." Reaching the end of his tirade, he stood, breathless, nostrils flaring, glaring at her with barely concealed violence in the roiling depths of his icy grey eyes._

_Listening patiently, fearlessly, and letting her magic run freely, Lucius was bound by invisible ropes, and tossed high into the air, where he hung like a sick sort of marionette suspended by its strings. _

_Glaring coldly up at him, Hermione bared her teeth in a grotesque snarl. "Mr. Malfoy Senior," she watched for his reaction when she stressed 'senior', "your behavior will not be tolerated." Motioning for the rest of the Death Eaters to step back, she was pleased that they complied, and without hesitation. Hermione's magic pulsed, and Lucius was flung from the air, and landed on the ground. Quickly, and almost inexplicably, his face began to turn purple, and he grasped at his neck, struggling in a losing battle against some unseen force. Hermione beckoned in a teasing 'come hither' gesture, and Lucius was dragged to her feet, gasping for air. _

_With not so much as a blink of an eye, she watched impassively as large gashes began to appear in the man's robes, tearing deep and gouging into the alabaster flesh below. Unseen knives scored over skin and cut into bone._

_And Lucius Malfoy screamed. Screamed until his voice ran raw._

Shaking her head slightly, Hermione returned to reality. Her mind focused to the more pressing things at hand.

Smiling wryly, she thought that the lack of questioning could also potentially be a ploy for her to let her guard down, but Hermione wasn't fooled that easily. _Slimy Slytherins._

Training was hard, bordering on brutal, and to Hermione's satisfaction, her group was well on their way to becoming professional _sharusahk _fighters.

It helped that Voldemort insisted that all his followers master some form of martial arts, and though she would never openly acknowledge it, the two Malfoys were the very best of the group. It suited well to her needs when she needed someone to do demonstrations.

Just as she finished this thought, a loud shout was heard echoing throughout the field. She spun to find Lucius pinned by Bella, the latter kneeling on his chest, hovering over him with a needle in her right hand. She brandished the tip above Lucius's face, the blond wizard was turning steadily redder, as the deranged witch cut off his air flow.

The flurry of activity stopped, and the clearing went deathly silent.

"You scum! You dare defend that mudblood bitch!" Bellatrix screamed and spat in his face. Her wild eyes sought Hermione's, and caught them, blazing coal locked on hard brown. Suddenly, Bella's face stretched into a wide smile, and her eyes rolled crazily in their sockets. Bringing the needle down, as if to caress Lucius with it, she said "because you didn't let me kill the mudblood, Lucius, _you will die today._"

Letting loose a maniacal cackle, Bella brought the needle up, and in a smooth motion, made to stab it into one of Lucius's eyes.

Gathering enough from the situation, and unable to stay back and watch any longer, Hermione uttered one word, and that one word froze the actions of all in the room.

"_Enough." _

Hermione's eyes had transformed into a wild, Celtic blue, the shocking color accompanying the significantly dropping temperature of the clearing, and those nearest to her backed away cautiously.

Bellatrix, seemingly unfazed, angled the gleaming point of the needle poised above Lucius's eye…then stared at Hermione in horror as the skin over her hand began to bubble and transform, becoming blackened with age, coarse with time, until her once shapely hand had been reduced to nothing but a withered black stump.

Without anything to support it, the needle fell, slowly nearing the delicate skin of Lucius's eyelid.

In a move too quick for human eyes to catch, Hermione plucked at the air, and the needle appeared before her. Rotating on some unseen axis, throwing light off its gleaming surface.

Studying it carefully, Hermione found traces of old magic, poison and other forms of torture that would undoubtedly ensure a slow and painful death. Shaping a breath of air into an impenetrable sphere, Hermione turned her cyan eyes on Bellatrix's huddled form.

"You have wronged me."

And terror quaked in the limbs of Bellatrix Lestrange.


End file.
